


Just Another Normal Morning

by Amaya_Ramiel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Breakfast, F/M, mild swearing, pure domestic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 04:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13803060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaya_Ramiel/pseuds/Amaya_Ramiel
Summary: Another short vignette, this time of just a normal morning in the Watson house, full of invading detectives, cute toddlers, and long-suffering doctors. They're a bit strange, but they're a family. Silly fluff.





	Just Another Normal Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Fanfiction.net in 2013

John was in his kitchen, a carton of eggs opened on the counter and a pan heating up on the hob, while he rummaged around his fridge for the butter package. Finally unearthing the container from underneath a box of leftover Chinese and a bag of questionable two-day old salad, he closed the door and turned back to the kitchen before giving a startled yelp.

“Holy shite, Sherlock!” John leapt back against counter, almost dropping the butter in the process.

“I thought you didn’t want that type of language around the house.”

“Bugger, Sherlock, what are you doing here? When did you get in? Why don’t you bloody knock? You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Sherlock contained the smirk that rose to his lips.

“I’ve a possible case you might find interesting, I got in about a minute ago but you were too busy to notice – really, anyone could get it, you make it too easy -, what’s the point in knocking if you’re just going to let me in? and finally, you’re unlikely to get a heart attack.”

“First of all, it’s not easy to get in, you’ve a key, so that doesn’t count! Second, regardless of the fact that you have a key and I would let you in anyhow, you might still knock occasionally to announce your presence. And third, we’ll see who’s right when I go into cardiac arrest one of these days!”

Sherlock pointedly ignored John and sat down at the kitchen table.

The doctor huffed in exasperation and returned to making breakfast. Dropping a small dollop of butter unto the hot pan, he set about cracking several eggs into a bowl and whisking them together.

The patter of tiny feet echoed across the hardwood floors followed by the piercing cry of “Uncle Sherlock!”

The detective allowed himself a small smile before being treated to an armful of four-year old.

“Good morning, uncle Sherlock!”

“Morning, Jamie.” He responded as the boy planted a slightly wet kiss on his cheek. Sherlock didn’t come off as particularly affective toward his nephew to outside observers, but those that knew him well could see the amount of caring the detective had. While he didn’t show many outward affective gestures, he didn’t reject the boy’s hugs and kisses, which spoke volumes about their relationship.

In the fashion of a monkey, Jamie climbed on Sherlock’s lap and seated himself at the table. Sherlock’s only reaction was to lean in and place his elbows on the table; the closest he came to embracing the boy himself.

John spared them a glance, smiling knowingly at the detective who had decided the child on his lap was far more interesting than John. Turning back to the task at hand, the doctor sprinkled some cheese on the beaten eggs that had already been poured into the pan, mixing everything with a spatula.

“So, what’s this case then?” He called out without turning.

“You’ll know when Lestrade gets here.”

“Sherlock, you know, I’d like to be told beforehand when people are coming to my house.”

“I’ve told you now, haven’t I?”

John sighed, knowing how futile it was to argue. Fishing out two plates from the dish rack, he divided some of the scrambled eggs into them and placed the plates on the table.

“Make sure he eats it all.”

Twined replies of ‘yes daddy’ and ‘yes John’ answered back, and John wondered, not for the first time, how it was that he wasn’t mad yet.

Taking three mugs from the dish rack he filled one of them with the coffee that he’d brewed before he started on the eggs, and placed the cup next to Sherlock’s plate. He then took a plastic cup and filled it with orange juice, which he placed close to Jamie’s plate, before continuing to make more scrambled eggs.

There was a knock on the front door, and Sherlock yelled ‘It’s open!’ making Jamie laugh into his breakfast and John throw his hands up in defeat.

The Detective Inspector crossed the hallway and stepped into the kitchen, slightly baffled at having been ‘let in’ by Sherlock instead of John.

“Moring, John, Sherlock, Jamie.” He said to each in turn, mild confusion written on his face. It wasn’t often that he got to see the sociopathic detective looking, what could only be described as, ‘normal’ – sitting in his best friend’s kitchen, having breakfast, with a child on his lap. If he hadn’t seen it for himself, Lestrade would not have believed it.

“Do you have any updates on the case?” Sherlock said, ignoring his half-eaten breakfast.

“Do you want any breakfast Greg? There’s plenty to go around.” Interjected John.

“Thanks John, but I had something already.”

“The case, Lestrade.”

The DI knew better than to get riled up at Sherlock’s impatience. “Right,  we identified the victim as Mrs. Allyson Hayes, and we’re tracking down her husband.”

“You really should have called me yesterday before you moved the body. I have been to the scene of the crime, but if there are any delays and gaps in the investigation you should be aware they are entirely your fault.”

“Sherlock, play nice.” John admonished, “Now, what’s the case about? And please, use age appropriate language.” He added, sparing his son a glance.

“Right, well, we found the body of an unidentified woman down by the canal yesterday. It looked like a pretty standard m… well you know. It was only during the autopsy that we found things weren’t as straight forward, and we decided to bring Sherlock in.”

“And a good thing too, since you’re close to completely-” “Sherlock” warned John, and the detective rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. “Fine, the point is the case looks far more promising than your run of the mill ‘crime’. And now that we know the woman’s identity we can-”

He was interrupted by John’s four-year old holding up his fork full of scrambled eggs up to his face.

“You’re not eating. It’s important.” Sherlock looked down at the boy and almost chuckled at how much he looked and sounded like his father. _Don’t get between a Watson and breakfast_ he’d learned in the years he’d lived with the doctor. Knowing it was pointless to argue with his nephew, and knowing he could seldom deny the boy anything, the detective obediently opened his mouth and allowed the child to feed him.

“Thank you.” John was constantly reminding both Jamie and Sherlock of keeping their manners, particularly the detective, so he thought it best to comply. In the years he’d known John, Sherlock had learned that in some things, it was easier to just do what John said, just as the doctor had learned that some battles with Sherlock would never be won either. Both had found the things they were willing to accept for the other, and it didn’t surprise either anymore. Lestrade might have been looking at him as though he’d just turned green and sprouted four more limbs, but John didn’t even bat an eye. In fact, Sherlock could detect the small smile the man was trying to hide.

Picking up his fork, Sherlock continued to eat while the DI went back to explaining the particulars of the case, and Jamie nodded at his uncle and picked up his cup to take a sip, the rest of his breakfast long finished.

“So yes, as Sherlock said, it’s the sort of thing you guys would be useful at.”

“Come now, Greg. That sounds as though they’re equipment. Surely they’re more than that by now?”

The four of them turned their heads to the kitchen doorway as Mary walked in. She was dressed up in her blue jacket and skirt, with a purple blouse underneath and a pair of low-heeled black pumps.

“Mum!”

“Morning sweetheart.” She said as she bent down and placed a kiss atop his messy blond head. “Morning Sherlock.” She ran a hand through his thick curls as though it was the most natural thing to her to treat Sherlock as another member of her family.

“Morning Mary.” He replied softly, raising his coffee cup to his lips to hide the pleased smile that made them twitched. Sometimes he was stunned by how much he appreciated and even enjoyed the affectionate gestures the Watsons granted him. Having grown up deprived of those interactions, he had always thought he didn’t need or want them. But now that he’d experienced how eagerly and honestly they were given, he’d developed a desire for them.

John treated him like a brother, Jamie treated him like an uncle, and Mary treated him as both mother and sister, but the fact that they did it without guile and ulterior motives had struck him as something unique and special.

He caught Lestrade staring opened mouth at their little family interactions and allowed himself a smirk.

Mary stepped behind and around Sherlock, to stand beside John, who handed her a plate of scrambled eggs. The doctor poured out two more cups of coffee and sat down beside Mary with his own plate of food.

Looking between the two adults breakfasting, the detective leaning back staring at him with a smirk, and the four-year old boy leaning against the detective’s chest looking at him expectantly, Lestrade suppressed the urge to shake his head in wonder. How was it that these four managed to look both like a ‘normal family’ and like the weirdest family he’d ever seen, the Yarder didn’t know.


End file.
